Sweetest Revenge
"But if you don't, they'll eat you alive."
The crowd is screaming now, chanting his name, my name, begging for the spectacle.
And then he does it.
He kisses me.
Not soft. Not sweet. But deliberate, rough, a claiming. The room explodes in cheers. Heat surges through me—anger, humiliation, something else I can't name. My body stiffens, but he holds the moment just long enough for everyone to see.
Then he pulls back, eyes burning into mine.
The crowd roars, satisfied, already spinning the bottle again, already moving on. But I can't. I'm frozen, skin burning, chest heaving.
Bab Populer